


The Familiar Comfort of Antagonism

by studiojude



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Gay Panic, Henry being a gay disaster and Pez finding it all hilarious, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25103788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/studiojude/pseuds/studiojude
Summary: A one-shot exploring what exactly provoked Henry to send the first text to Alex. Hint: a little bit of alcohol, a lot of gay panic, and Pez.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 19
Kudos: 210





	The Familiar Comfort of Antagonism

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovely readers! So, this was written in the span of an hour thanks to a text I got from my best friend saying she needed a fic that explored what Henry was thinking when he sent the "but we were ever so careful, dear" text to Alex. Shoutout to her for giving me the idea to write this silly little fic instead of working on my WIP, lol.  
> Anyways, I hope you all enjoy! This is my first time writing Pez, so fingers crossed he's not too ooc.  
> Thank you so much for reading, let me know what you think (or if you catch any mistakes)!

A steady shower of rain beats down on the windows of the music room inside Kensington Palace as a bottle of cognac is being passed haphazardly between the two inhabitants: Henry, the golden haired prince who has taken to drunkenly lying on the floor scrolling absentmindedly through Twitter, and his best friend Pez, who has draped himself lavishly over a settee, his pink satin robe hanging off one shoulder and trailing lightly on the ground. The two found themselves in this situation often enough, but it seemed to have become quite the routine after the disastrous royal wedding cake fiasco and subsequent plot to get Henry and Alex Claremont-Diaz, the First Son of the United States, to act like the best of friends for the public. What no one but Pez knew, was that Henry had been hopelessly in love with Alex since he had first laid eyes on him at the Rio Olympics years earlier. Which is why, when Alex had given Henry his phone number at their last required public appearance together, Henry couldn’t help messaging him one day.

It had been stupid, really. He and Pez had found themselves, much like today, lying on the floor surrounded by snacks and a sleeping David the beagle, watching Return of the Jedi on Henry’s laptop (there may have also been alcohol involved then, too). When Chief Chirpa had come on screen, Henry had let out an undignified snort.

“I didn’t know Alex was in this movie,” he had commented to Pez, which had made the other choke on a laugh as he took a swig of the wine bottle they were sharing.

“Of course you would find a way to bring Alex up. You are so far gone, mate.” Pez had teased, but Henry wasn’t paying attention, he was too busy taking a photo of the laptop screen and typing out a message:

_This bloke looks like you._

He sent it without realizing quite what he had done until it was too late, the small “delivered” message at the bottom of the text looked like it was mocking him as it appeared.

“Shit!” He threw his phone at Pez, who narrowly avoided being brained in the side of the head with it as it clattered to the floor. Pez picked it up and squinted tipsily at the screen before turning to look at Henry with barely concealed glee on his face.

“What the fuck do I do?!” Henry groaned, scrubbing his face with both hands, feeling all of a sudden very sober. Gay panic will do that to you.

Pez just laughed, “You might want to let your boy know that it’s you and not some rando stalker who got his number on the black market or something. Not that I would know anything about that.”

“I don’t think you can buy phone numbers on the black market, Pez” Henry retorted back, snatching the phone out of the other’s hands and typing out a quick

_This is Henry, by the way._

He watched again as the message delivered, but neither had been read. Either Alex didn’t have his read notifications on, or he was ignoring him. Henry couldn’t tell which scenario was worse.

He hadn’t been able to concentrate for the rest of the night, for the rest of the week really, until he was sitting in an early morning meeting a week later and felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He took it out and hid it under the table, hoping that Phillip and Shaan wouldn’t see that he wasn’t paying attention, and checked his texts. He read the message before he saw the contact name. It was a photo of a recent spread on him in _People_ (the one where he was wearing very tiny swim trunks on a beach in Australia. He had protested quite a bit at that one), accompanied with

_you have a lot of moles_

_is that a result of the inbreeding?_

Of course it had been Alex who had texted him, he was the only one who had the nerve to be cheeky to a prince. Henry felt the tension he had been carrying since that first text last week fade ever so slightly. Ah, the familiar comfort of antagonism.

It was currently two days after Alex had texted him, and Henry hadn’t responded yet. What he _had_ done was invited Pez over, broke out the alcohol, and sat around moaning about the Claremont-Diaz siblings.

“But on the bright side, if you do end up doing the nasty with your frenemy turned lover, maybe you could put in a good word with his lovely goddess of a sister for your old mate, auntie Pezza?” Pez implored, gesturing wildly in the air partly for emphasis and partly just for the drama of seeing his robe sleeve flutter around. Henry felt the heat rise to his already reddened cheeks at the mention of sleeping with Alex; he stopped scrolling and lowered his phone to glare at his best friend.

“I most certainly will _not_ be sleeping with Alex, Pez. And any way, can’t you put in a good word for yourself?! All you do is talk.” He retorted, laughing as Pez threw a pillow at his face.

“What is life but misery?” Pez moaned dramatically, taking a heavy pull from the cognac bottle Henry had passed back over to him before throwing his arm over his eyes.

“Calm down over there, Oscar Wilde.” Henry said, looking back at his phone screen. His eyes landed on a tweet from the _Daily Mail_. It was a newly published article, the headline reading “Is Alex Claremont-Diaz going to be a father?” He takes a screenshot, already formulating the perfect comeback to Alex’s response. He sends the photo along with the text:

_But we were ever so careful, dear._

It was risky, he knows. But something about Alex made Henry feel brave, even if that bravery was used to poke the proverbial bear that is Alex Claremont-Diaz.

....

A whole year later, as Alex and Henry are curled up on the couch in their Brooklyn apartment with David on the floor in front of them, having a Star Wars movie marathon, Henry will lean down to whisper in Alex’s ear

“That bloke still looks like you” as Chief Chirpa makes his appearance on screen. Alex will laugh and punch his boyfriend’s shoulder, recalling the first text between them.

“You know, if you hadn’t texted me that day, this could have turned out quite differently.” Alex says back, pressing a light kiss to Henry’s cheek, who just smiles softly. “Good thing I know a certain British royal who likes it when American boys with dimples are mean to him.”

The whole world may not be watching this moment, but history will certainly remember.


End file.
